Surrender is Stronger
by arya-starkles
Summary: This is my retelling of the scene in 03x07 when Annie confronts Mitchell about the train massacre. But in this one, it's Mitchell who tells Annie.


Mitchell knew how to deal with the agonizing guilt of a kill. Years of practice had prepared him for such feelings but now, now it was like the guilt consumed him, like it was eating him from the inside out. He, now, truly felt dead inside.

The worst part is when he closes his eyes. He hasn't slept properly in a while now, he _can't. _Every time he closes his eyes, it's like he's reliving every second of it. He can hear them, screaming in his head, a scream that could make someone's blood boil, make their skins crawl in agony and disgust. He could see their faces, he could see them pleading for their lives. He would wake up screaming and shaking in the middle of the night, which led to Annie warping into his room, crawling on the bed as she helped Mitchell relax. She always asked him what troubled him, but he said it was just recurring nightmares, and then she would ask what they were, and he always lied, telling her that he had forgotten somehow and that he was okay now, and he would always tell her that he needed some time on his own and she would look sad as she nodded, warping off into her contemplation room. He _hated _telling her to go away.

He walked through the door, his hair wet from the rain. He looked up and saw Annie sitting on the couch, reading some magazine. Their eyes met and she immediately jumped off the couch, throwing the magazine to the side. She gently grabbed his face and went in for a kiss, but he moved his head so it would go on his cheek. Annie coughed awkwardly, and bit her cheeks.

"Is there something wrong, Mitchell?" she asked, playing with the hem of her grey cardigan.

"Yes" he said weakly. He was going to tell her what he did. He _had _to tell her now; she deserved to know that she was in love with _another_ killer. Every inch of his mind and body screamed at him, telling him to not do it. His head kept having flashes, flashes of the crime scene, but worse of all, the look her face would make; how her face would drop from her usual smile, how she'll double back and cry. God, that was killing him more than the massacre was.

"I'll make some tea," she said, rushing to the kitchen, "We'll sit and talk it through!"

"Annie, please" he sighed, walking through the heavy doors. She was pouring the water into two cups now. Every time he tried to speak, she cut him off.

"Good thing I put the kettle on before you came!" she said cheerfully, "Wouldn't want to waste your time, yeah?"

"For the love of God, Annie," cried Mitchell, "Let me speak."

Annie screamed as she put her arms on the counter and wiped everything off. The mugs and dirty plates were now a shattered ruin on their floor, but Annie didn't care. She pushed her back up against the counter and slid to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chin as she cried into her leggings.

"What do you want from me, Mitchell?!" she yelled at him, her face now stained with tears, her curly hair now stuck to her forehead.

"I need to tell you something," he murmured, "Something important."

"Oh," she chuckled, standing up, "_now _you want to talk to me?"

"What?" he asked, puzzled, "I always want to talk to you."

"_Bullshit_," she spat, "Do you think I'm stupid or something? I can see how you flinch and groan under your breath whenever I come near you, whenever I want to talk to you, whenever I want to fucking care for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about" he said, playing with the holes in his green gloves.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mitchell," she said, her face and tone as cold as ice, "You've been treating me like a virus lately. Like something that clings to you and never detaches. And I stand there and take it, like the fool I am."

"You're not a fool" he said, stepping closer towards her, but she slapped his chest, he fell back and lowered his eyes.

"I _am _a fool, Mitchell," she gritted her teeth, "I foolishly fell in love with you when you were at your worse. I wish I could go back in time, you know? I wish I told you sooner, before you became," she waved her hand in front of him, "before you became this…_thing._ You aren't the man I fell in love with, Mitchell, I want him back."

"I wish I could go back, Annie," his voice was shaky and broken, as if he were on the verge of crying hysterically, "I wish I could go back to Bristol, in the little pink house with me, you and George. I wish this never happened. I wish I never had done the things I did a few weeks ago. I wish I could make it all go away. But I…I _can't._"

"Did what?" she asked, sniffling.

"I relapsed, Annie," his mouth quivered and trembled, "I'm so sorry, Annie."

"You killed again?"

"Yes," he croaked, "I killed those people on the train. It was me, Annie."

As expected, her face dropped, she stumbled back and cried. He just stared at her, he watched as her entire world crumbled down around her, like she was being killed all over again. Her sobs echoed in his head and he sniffled, his eyes wet and blurry, but still fixed on Annie.

"Why?" her voice was no louder than a whisper. Her whole body was trembling and he sighed, rubbing his face aggressively.

"I had found out about Lucy, and I killed those people as retaliation. I was so mad with humanity, so Daisy and I went and did it. We pecked and tore at those innocent people, Annie. We killed them."

"Thank you" she said, gulping.

"For what?" he asked, "I just told you I did the massacre."

"Yeah," she shrugged, the corners of her mouth curved down, "But that was the most honest thing I've heard you say in months. I can't believe she was right…"

"Who was right?" he asked as she absent mindlessly walked to the next room, and fell onto the couch. She didn't make eye contact.

"Nancy," she breathed out, "She had a feeling, she had the evidence, but I didn't want to believe her. I knew that you were clean, that you wouldn't do such a thing but I guess I was wrong, hey? I'm always getting things wrong nowadays, aren't I?" she chuckled.

"I'm so sorry, Annie" he said, bending down to look in her eyes.

Annie ignored him, "What are you going to do now?" she asked, finally looking into his eyes.

He shrugged, a sigh leaving his lips, "I'm going to hide, I guess."

"No, you're not hiding from this, Mitchell" she shook her head, her face hard as stone. _She's being serious, _he thought, astonished.

"Annie, I _have _to hide," he said quickly, "Or else everything will go to shit!"

"Everything has already gone to shit, Mitchell!" she yelled, standing up, "You can't hide from this anymore; you need to turn yourself in. You owe the people you killed, you _owe _the families. You owe _everyone!_"

He walked away and she grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her, "You don't understand, Annie!" he almost screamed at her, something he never wanted to do. She flinched, and then lowered his voice, "If they take me in then they'll know that I'm a vampire. They'll try to take my picture, and I won't show up. And you know what's gonna happen afterwards?" she looked away, her arms around her chest, "We're going to be found. This entire world of ours will be torn to shreds and then there will be nowhere to hide. This is for the greater good, Annie."

"_The greater good_, Mitchell?" she scoffed, "You killed people! And you need to be punished! Remember when I asked what you would do if I was killed in that massacre? What you would want for the killer? Please, Mitchell, you need to turn yourself in!" they were both crying now.

A loud bang came from the door and their heads shot up, "Police! Open this door or we'll be forced to open it ourselves!" a man shouted through the door.

Mitchell sniffled and grabbed her shoulders, "Please, if you love me, you will get me out of here!" he pleaded but she shook her head, no.

"No, Mitchell" she said.

"You don't _understand, _Annie!" he shouted, "If they come in, then I'll have to kill every single one of them!"

"No," she said again, "You won't kill them because I _know _you want this…this _madness _to end! Now, if _you_'_ve _ever loved _me, _then you will do this for me. Give the families comfort, let them bury their loved ones with the peace of mind that _you're _behind bars!" the police kept kicking at the door "I'll always be with you, Mitchell, _always. _You won't be alone, but please, let them take you in. For _me."_

Mitchell sighed and the police finally kicked their way in. He darted off into the kitchen, grabbing an empty bottle and shattering it against the counter.

"He's in the kitchen!" one of them yelled and they all rushed into the kitchen.

He held up the bottle threateningly, "I swear to God, if you come any closer, I'll kill you all!" Mitchell screamed and Annie walked in, her chin up high, her lips slightly trembling again and she sighed at him, her eyes full of disappointment and sadness. It broke his heart.

"Mitchell, please," she whispered, looking around the room full of armed police, "This must end, Mitchell. No more killing, just _surrender._ _Surrender is stronger._" She gave him a soft smile, "I love you John Mitchell, and I always will. I'll see you soon, but just please do this for me."

And so he did. Mitchell put down the bottle and lifted his hands in the air. He fell to his knees, looking at Annie's broken and hard face as they put the cuffs on.

Nancy walked in, proud as a peacock, "John Mitchell," she breathed out, "I am arresting you on the suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention—when questioned—something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in as evidence."

Mitchell gulped, his hair sticking to his sweaty, tear streaked face. He looked at Annie and with cold eyes he said, shaking his head, "You have no idea what you have done."

And with that, they took him away.


End file.
